


Solitude

by kayydee



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:29:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayydee/pseuds/kayydee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are days where David doesn’t leave his room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> Felt kinda shitty so I decided to vent by writing about my lovely davesnake  
> This is the first time i've wrote a drabble of any kind since like...2013 lmao  
> so I hope it's alright!
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated and loved, I love feedback!  
> also come say hi and sin with me over at kayy-dee.tumblr.com!

There are days where David doesn’t leave his room.

His room, riddled with discarded bottles of various types of alcohol and scant anything else. His room, which he often locks and sleeps for 20 hours behind the door, everyone and anyone completely unaware of anything that may be happening behind said bedroom door. Many nights filled with hatred-induced binge drinking. Many mornings filled with hatred-induced binge drinking. Chain smoking. Self-loathing. Shutting out the world.

There are days where David doesn’t talk to anyone.

David’s huskies will sometimes scratch at his door, begging for their master to open up and give the outside world another try. They can sense his distress, and David knows this. Beats himself up further for his inability to take care of even dogs. Take care of himself.

Or Hal.

Hal will sometimes approach his room, knuckles ready to rap against the door. Knuckles that hesitate right before they make contact with the shoddy, splintery wood. Hal tries to communicate with the man deeply shut away inside of himself, through many different means. Sometimes he’ll be naive enough to try and call out to David. Other times, he’ll try slipping notes under the uneven gap resting between the door and the creaky floorboards. But most of all, Hal will just press himself against the wood of the door, hoping, praying that David will know he’s there. Waiting at the door. Calling out for him.

Sometimes, Hal will sit outside David’s door the entire day.

More often than not, Hal will hear a commotion down the hall, towards David’s room on days like these. Glass breaking, bottles being dropped. Yelling, anguish tinging the muffled voice he recognizes all too well. Incidents like these usually occur well into the night, when the sun has long since fallen and the dogs have began to fall asleep, one by one.

The most heartbreaking of all, though, is the sobbing.

Hal will approach the door-- cautiously, borderline terrified. He’ll try to utter a comforting, “David?” in hopes that Dave will respond. The only response he receives is more sobbing, more choking on the lump he must know is in his friend’s throat, and tears forcing themselves out. On nights like these, the only way David can get sleep is to cry himself drunk and unconscious.

On nights like these, Hal also cries himself to sleep.


End file.
